Bad Tidings/Roleplays
Movlat in Obando, visiting the county of the Field of Fallingworth.
"Hey Movlat, what's this I heard about a crazy old man in Sirion Castle?" , hollars Denis, the miller in the Fields of Fallingworth.
"I am not sure, from what I heard he was preaching doom and destruction. Perhaps he was referring to Avamar.." A message bring Movlat the lastest news from Avamar with the failed TO attempt. "Or perhaps it is that Avamar is going to rise up and crush Sirion. But one thing is for sure, we have seen some major battles recently and it seems like this fool is speaking something of a truth, in the last couple of months I have seen many men die..."
"Aye Bankerman you are on the mark about that. I hope I don't lose my sons to some crazy battle. I don't need a ssetback like that right now, things are just starting to come together in my life." answers Denis.
"Yes, we could make many premature conclusions, but that would be right. And would worrying enable either of us to live even one extra day? Nay it would not." affrims Movlat.
A Fontanese stable boy pulls the donkey cart up to the door of the prison where foreign nobles are kept. His job is simple - whenever a ransom is paid, he takes the noble and delivers them to the nearest caravan heading in the direction of the nobles realm.
Impatiently he stands there, absentmindedly kicking the wooden cart until the noble is brought out to him. Covered in bruises and in rags, the man looks almost asleep or unconsious. The only nobles that he'd seen in this bad shape came from Avamar, so he headed straight for a shop with a caravan heading towards the east.
As the cart rocks back and forth, the nobleman seems to awaken. Relising where he was, he asked the boy where they where going.
- "You're going back where you belong, you dirty Black Hand!" the boy said with great pride
A sad chuckle broke out of the beaten noblemans mouth.
- "So, I'm a dirty Black Hand, eh? And what are you? A blood thirsty Fontanese pig?"
Shocked, the boy starts to stutter. The nobleman waves dismissivly,
- "Nevermind... just take me towards Oligarch."
After several minutes of wandering around, the donkeycart reachs a caravan heading north. Before the nobleman had a chance to get off the cart, a strange, wizened, old man stumbled towards him.
- "Shoo! Go on, get out of here!" The boy yelled, but the creepy old man continued to stare at the nobleman in the cart.
Slowly, with barely formed words, the old man began to speak:
- "Rebirth... the first... shall become last... the gods are watching, watching, watching, watching..."
With that, the man seemed to fall asleep on his feet.
As the nobleman turned to look at the transfixed boy, the old man screamed out:
- "POWER YOU HAVE NOW, BUT THE GODS CLAIM ALL! THE GODS CHOSE ALL! ALL GOLD AND MONEY COMES FROM THE GODS! YOU LOVE MONEY AND POWER, BUT IN THE END, WILL YOU HAVE EITHER?"
His "quest" fulfilled, the old man turned and stumbled away, muttering as he went.
Geniune fear showed in the eyes of the nobleman, terror shone in the eyes of the young boy.
- "They... talk..." the young boy stuttered, "They've never talked before...".
Shaking his head slightly, the nobleman climbs gingerly out of the wooden cart, hands the boy a gold coin and makes his way towards the waiting caravan.
Several hours later, with the provisions for the trip bought, the caravan starts back north. With the nobleman in his own private carriage, he slowly repeats the words the old man yelled at him:
- "The gods chose all... in the end, will you have either?"
As the words become a mantra, the nobleman falls into a fitful sleep with dreams of Oligarch City burned to the ground, Westmoor razed and Ashforth flying the flag with the white tree on it.
Tossing and turning, the caravan continues ever northward.
(The rest is here)
Ragnell avoided thinking after the battle. She would not acknowledge any feeling of guilt before she reached the shores of Oroya. It was there were she confessed to the ocean who she was, and who she loved. The sound of the waves reaching the land made her feel that she was not too far away from home. Poitiers, that calm rural region, and the big busy city of Oroya shared the same sea. So did Kazakh and the beaches of Sirion that her sister used to "visit" often. The ocean was a reminder that they were all part of Omnia, the Everything that is God.
She wanted to see the ocean again, and on the white sand (so white that it made her think of the God that is Light) she would write everything she regretted about the recent battle. That was not a Civil War. Avamar was not like Kazakh at all. She saw it in Dindrane once, when she wanted to join Rancagua yet had "Avamar" tattooed in her soul. She saw it again in that halfling who proudly defended it until the end: Avamar was not just a city, but a home worth dying for.
Ragnell needed to tell someone she was sorry, but no human would believe her apologies were sincere.
But the sea would understand. And she would finally understand its waves.
"Those waves wash away everything bad I write on the sand, and take it back to the sea," she had told Fuinur once, "but they are so dumb. They can't tell good from bad. They also erase those hearts I draw with our names on it, and tear down my sand castles."
We are all like the waves. We can't tell good from bad either, and we washed away the sand castle that was Avamar.
"Then write it again, my love," Fuinur had said then, kissing her forehead, "and build new castles."
To build again. Rebirth. That was a popular word lately as the people repeated what was being preached by priests and prophets.
Then news came about dead fish. Washing off her sins would not be easy anymore.
Yerli looked up at the clouded sky. The sun seemed odd, the air had an evil feel to it. For the first time in what seemed like forever, the Caligans had escaped his mind.
Instead, his thoughts were filled with images of troubled peasants, maddened prophets preaching doom and animals crazed, running as if persued by fire, though no smoke was to be seen.
Peasants were superstitious, and often found some evil omen to stoke their fears. A walk down any street of any city would expose one to the calls of a multitude of prophets with a multitude of visions, all more terrible then the last. There was nothing new in this, even if these things had intensified recently.
The animals were different though. Yerli had been around horses all of his life. He knew how to read their fear, how to guide them into battle against their instincts. But the beasts that his men had been forced to destroy were not like any horse he'd ever seen. They were demons possesed, possesed with a fear that made Yerli's own heart tremble. Four of his men lay injured, victims of the monsters that only yesterday had been their mounts.
Yerli was not a particularily spiritual man, for all his father's preaching, yet he found himself giving silent prayer to the God Tom, as he gazed at the hazy sun, wondering if the end of days was approaching.
Yerli (Knight of Isadril, Yssaria)
Denis, the Miller in the Field of Fallingworth (a county in Obando), cires out loud, "Gaah! I ate a fish!", as he runs up to a boy selling fish in the town market. "Tell me where you got this fish from boy." he says semi histerically.
"I caught it in the river, old man, why?", the boy queitly replies, somewhat hesitiant of the mans intentions.
"Haven't you heard?", and man replies a little less exasperated. Just as the final word came out a group of farmers horses dashed through the fence and wildly ran in the streets, making a great fuss. "This surely cannot be good.", he says, his attention now diverted to the horses.
The local priest, Garon, happened to be walking to the small boy's fish wares, and old man Denis clearly surprised the priest. "Not now Denis, I have come to get food for tonights' supper. I have to get back to the parish quickly." as the priest hand the boy some coppers for a few fish.
"What's the big rush? Farmer Ken will deal with the horses, and the boy says this fish are not the coastal fish, that they come from the river." interjects Denis.
"It seems that there is a ruckas flourishing at Sirion Castle, some crazy fanatics have appeared seemingly out of nowhere and claimed that the castle is built on top of some forsaken temple. I have good reports that the militia was run out of the town by some strange witchcraft. Now I really must get going, I have many things to prepare and many messages to send to other places of worship", the priest says as he wraps his fish in thin parchment paper an place in has day sack.
"I'm not liking the sounds of this", Denis quaintly replies to both the boy and the priest. "The weather has gone bad, the clouds are dark, yet it does not rain, do not tell me they are wheather witches, cuz I will chase those crazy fanatics myself with my pitchfork if I have to."
Recorded by Movlat of Old Rancagua
Mid-day, in Mashhad, Yssaria:
Hylor was too nervous to wait until he arrived in the capital. He dispatched his fastest messenger to deliver a hastily written letter to the Council.
- My men are very uneasy. From what I've seen in the last few hours, I cannot blame them. On my way from Mashhad to Hamadan, we've passed several farms with broken fences and livestock running like mad. At first I thought there were vandals in the area, but with the ominous clouds overhead, I rather expect the animals' instincts are telling them we're in for a very bad storm.
- Has anyone else run into this sort of thing? How far spread is this?
- Also, has anyone heard from the merchants in Hamadan and Isadril what the weather has been at sea?
"Luckily," Hylor thought, "I'll be in Hamadan by nightfall, and we can find some secure housing there."
Underneath a few rocks lays the body of a noble. His cloaths where almost shattered, covered with dust. His Thick brown hair wasn't even recognizable, it turned just as black as the sky. There where only a few people standing, stunned, looking for relatives. When Grego woke up, He couldn't remember a thing. He pushed the rocks of his leg. “Aaah!!”
A wound of maybe 3 inches wide could be seen on his leg. After he shook the black dust of his hair he looked around him...
Avamar....
There was nothing left of the city... almost every building was razed, the walls where down and only a few people where outside, looking for there loved ones...
Grego knew that it should have been day by now. But the sky was black as marble, with no sun breaching threw.
“Grego! Grego!” A cloaked person ran towards the man. “Naira?” “Grego!!” Naira closed her arms around Grego's body. “It is terrible, I am searching for hours, everyone disappeared!” Grego grabs his leg and bites on his teeth of pain. “Sorry, didn't know you where wounded! Let me take a look at it..” After she cared for the wound she helpt Grego up, guiding him to her residence.
“What happened out there? I just recovered from my wounds from the first battle of Avamar i was sleeping in my mansion until i woke up of this terrible sound... it sounded like the earth was split in two!”
“I don't know Naira... i heard the sound to. Seconds after that, a building behind me collapsed.... I cant remember a thing.” Grego sigh's. “We can't do anything now Grego, All you can do is rest, your Leg needs some attention.”
Grego wanted to protest, But the touch of Naira's soft hands on his head made him calm. After a few minutes, Grego falls back to sleep....
Antan (Lord of Obando) wakes up in a cold sweat. He had fallen asleep in his chair in the lodge, but he now finds himself in his bedroom. He walks over towards the door and tries to open it. He pushes again, but it will not budge at all. He yells for someone to help him, wondering if there is still someone in the lodge from last night. He yells for his servants, then yells for his knights, then just hollars for anyone to come help him.
Suddenly, the door slowly opens. Antan takes a step back and puts his hand on his sword hilt. But it is not there! Someone had removed Bormegil from him last night. "Well I hope they are in a lot of pain for it, whoever they are. Maybe they'll end up with an ugly scar like me." Antan looks around the room quickly, but there is nothing except for the bed.
Quietly the door fully opens and in steps Kiran, the head priest of Homdromia (a county in Obando). Kiran gives Antan a cold stare for a few moments, making chills run up and down Antan's spine. Kiran then gives a cold smile and says, "Lord Antan, you are being removed from your duties. No longer shall you rule over the people of Homdromia any longer. You are a lord without a home."
Antan takes a step back, shocked at what he is hearing. "That is outrageous! You can't do this to me! I was entrusted with this region by King Fuinur himself. I am it's Lord Protector. Who shall lead the people in my place?" Antan asks ina hurried voice, not quite sure of what is going on.
Kiran says, "Well, now that has changed now hasn't it. Thanks to our prayers OUR lord protector has granted us the cover of darkness for the past two days. The Monks of Homdromia and I have declared our independance from your puny guidance. We are now under our great lord, Csopa! The land of Csopa has finally been reclaimed for him. Now we are free to worship our great god. And you Antan, are free to die in this room in this lodge that you so loved."
Antan falls on his knees, not able to take the shock of what he is hearing. He begins to mutter to himself unitelligibly. Kiran gives a cold smile, walks up and smacks Antan across the face with the back of his hand and turns around. Kiran then closes the door. Over the next few minutes, Antan slowly hears a wall being put up outside the door.
